Fallout: Vault 75
by Post Baily
Summary: In an alternate world where the US and other national powers have annihilated the other through nuclear war, humanity survives within many underground vaults. All seems well until it becomes clear that each vault was built with an ulterior motive. What dark secrets lie within the fallout vaults?
1. Chapter 1

_This is a fan made work. Fallout 4, Vault 75 and all characters, some dialogue and intellectual properties belongs to Bethesda Game Studios, published by Bethesda Softworks. Fallout: Vault 75 is intended to be a supplemental work of fiction to provide an estimation of the events that took place in one of the mysterious Vaults built by the pre-war company Vault-Tec. Artistic liberties have been made. This is also intended to be a short novella published once a month with five chapters in total. While the story was written with the intention that any person can read it and follow the events, an interest in the Fallout series and lore would be helpful in understanding Vault 75. Please be warned for graphic content, violence, mature language and some gore. Please support the author by leaving feedback, sharing, and giving credit to the aforementioned author._

 **Fallout: Vault 75  
DeCapo**

 **Prologue**

In another place, another time the world is coming to an end. Many have prophesized what the final days would be like; boiling seas, sackcloth's and blackness certainly and, perhaps, they are not far off the mark.

Humanity has risen over the ages, from stone and flint, to horseback and arrow, and finally to fossil fuel and crisis. So serene, so contented on the surface; most lived a life of luxury filled with automated servants who never made a mistake and never asked for wages, and, most never even got a warning before the world rained down nuclear fire.

Who shot first? No one can say. When every and all of the largest and most powerful nations took and gobbled and devoured without giving back, when each was certain of their own righteousness, not caring or even asking if they should, it doesn't matter overmuch whose finger was on that button.

In a single day the modern chapter of the world ended in flame, effectively wiping nearly all of humanity off the board of Life. But. There is hope. In those final years, those final days there were those who pricked their ears to how the wind would blow and gambled on a Maybe. _Maybe_ the world would come to an end, _maybe_ someone wouldbe crazy enough to detonate the most destructive force ever harnessed, and, _maybe_ , somebody better start building a safeguard.

So the Vaults were dug, hundreds of them, scattered all over the US and perhaps, even, the world. Massive, commodious, expensive and improbable, built they were. It looked as though perhaps humanity might have a shot after all. But what is humanity without folly and greed? The Vaults were built, yes, but each with their own dark little secret. Here is the story of one of those Vaults.

 **Chapter One**

 _Gather around, children, gather to me and hear the story of Vault 75. Long, long ago the world above was ruled by wise and strong leaders who provided peace and prosperity to the country of America. They built beautiful skyscrapers, filled lakes and rivers with sparkling clean water, and gave the people of America the greatest gift of all: conformity. All was well, the people were happy but there were those who grew jealous of the rich and prosperous America._

 _The Red Communist China was bitter and envious, angry that America had green lands filled with soda and automobiles. They wanted to take what the kind and obedient Americans had, so they gathered and gathered and gathered their soldiers and machines and marched across the world, burning and killing!_

 _America the wise, the clever dug deep, deep under the earth. The cunning leaders of America knew that they must protect the people, so they built the Vaults. If the terrible Red Communist China came to spread fire across the earth and poison the air then the cunning America would go under the earth and build a multitude of sanctuaries, safe and snug from the foul rending teeth of their enemies._

 _The terrible day came when the weapon of the enemy fell upon the earth. The sky filled with a bright flash, the earth trembled, the seas boiled and the people burned to ash. But the leaders of America were prudent and knew that even though an awful thing may come to pass they would ensure the survivors of America had hope. They built Vault 75, the very Vault you were born into, and gave us a special purpose._

 _The children of Vault 75 are strong! The children of Vault 75 are diligent! The children of Vault 75 are born to be the Heroes of the Uptopland; capable, clever and most important of all, obedient to the Mother Overseer!_

"-and so, my _dear_ children, it is time we conclude our yearly Graduation Ceremony. Can our Top Tier Graduates stand – ah, thank you. As they quickly leave behind childhood and our Vault 75 home they go forth as top cadets, the strongest, fastest and bravest, to the World Above. Stand and put your hands together for our standard Graduates, who have already departed and await their brother and sister cadets! Let us praise them!"

Overseer Elena stood on the balcony corridor overlooking the spacious atrium, beaming amongst the sea of clapping, tiny jubilant faces below gazing up adoringly at her. Her yellow hair was a nimbus set alight by the overhead luminescent ceiling lighting and the Overseer swept her gaze over the hundreds of faces like a stocky but benevolent Madonna, raising her own hands to clap vigorously at the handful of teens that stood rigid, faces glowing, hands clasped tightly behind their backs.

That morning testing had been postponed so the inhabitants of the Vault could gather to witness the most important day in the calendar year; Graduation Day. Even the youngest had been escorted from the Under-Fives to be carefully deposited closest to the leader of the Vault. It was probably the most excitement they had seen since the previous Graduation Day. If the youngest of the crowd was closest to the leader of the underground facility, then the farthest outward were the teens who were fast coming up on their own Graduation Day. No one knew the exact population of the current residents, though the atrium was certainly at full capacity if the number of bodies that spilled into the cafeteria and sat upon awkward high places like the cooling ducts meant anything, it was a high number indeed.

Rohit Lucas, as an Outmode, an older inhabitant of Vault 75, was only a few years out from Graduation. He had seen his fair share of ceremonies and therefore had a more cynical and detached view. His lip curled slightly as he scanned the energetic and thrilled faces around him and felt disgust at how any slight change to the monotonous daily routine always seemed to be embraced with a repulsive amount of eagerness. And noise. He could barely hear the Overseer's speech, though it didn't matter much at this point, he had heard the story of the World Before and the traditions of Vault 75 so many times at this point he could recite them verbatim.

Rohit shifted uncomfortably in his metal stacking chair, having been elbowed by a beefy Elite, all bulging muscle and twitchy violent anticipation. Of the two groups the children of Vault 75 fell into Rohit was firmly on the spectrum called the Domes. He never could figure out if it meant Ivory Dome, as in a person expert in a certain field or just implied a brain so large his cranium could barely contain the information within. Well. The Elites could barely string together a sentence, nonetheless a relevant pun so he guess it didn't matter much, but the terms stuck with each successive generation trained within the Vault.

The Elites, on the other hand, were the individuals who excelled at physical exertion, as well as general deadliness with hand to hand combat or hardware, which left little room for intellectual capabilities.

There was a lot of antagonism between the two groups, something Rohit always felt as though was encouraged by the Upstairs, and kept him from saying anything, or even looking at the Elite next to him. He was under no illusion that even though he may be one of the tallest in the Vault, his bony frame wouldn't hold up against physical punishment. Something he had learned the hard way.

In fact, thinking about the Upstairs, this was the one day outside of the monthly medical inspection and the rare system malfunction within the vast Vault that he saw so many of the adult staff at once.

Not that they were much to look at. The Chief of the Scientific Division, Gibson, had been around for eons, nothing new there. He sat on the corridor balcony directly across from the Overseer, still giving platitudes and praise, surrounded by a handful of techs. There were more, undoubtedly, but they were probably running tests in the labs.

Chief Gibson was currently having a low conversation with the Head of the Medical Department, Doctor Kendrick. If Gibson was any indication of what time and a few extra pounds did to the human body Rohit wasn't looking forward to what adulthood had to offer. He had the look of a slightly deflated ball; his round face seemed to run downwards, jowls listing over an unshaven jaw like a partially melted wax candle while his rather rotund and beefy lower half fairly taxed the spindly legs of the fold-up chair to the point of bending ominously.

Doctor Kendrick, as usual, was the complete opposite of Gibson; her body was like a spear, her back ramrod straight, refusing to touch the back of the chair as though it personally offended her. Short, dark hair combed carefully away from her angular face and cut so severely the style could have been used as a guide for a perfect right angle. Rohit was intensely grateful he only had to be around her once a month; the loving way she handled the medical instruments always made the hair on his neck stand up.

Rohit glanced behind the both of them surprised at a sudden flurry of activity between a couple of the lab techs. One he didn't know, probably one of the older Outmodes that was chosen for the Science Team before Rohit had even left the Under-Fives but the other he recognized as Washington, one of the Domes, like him, but a couple of years older. Smug bastard had been crowing about being hand-picked for the Research Team, directly under Gibson.

An honor, to some, to be chosen to stay behind while the rest of the Graduates went Uptopland. To others, like the combative Elites who relished the thought of bringing violence to the World Above, Washington was a blow-black, a total disgrace. No way he'd be up on that stage with the other Elites; chronic fatigue, a tendency to break out in rash under stress and that weird split-pea soup smell that emanated from somewhere within him firmly placed Washington in the weekly head-in-the-toilet-drubbing club.

Eyes drifting back towards the opposite balcony and makeshift stage below it, Rohit felt surprise that he wasn't really envious of those select few who basked under the glow of the Overseer, rather he felt like an outside observer. Probably something to do with his role as a lab assistant for the Physical Expository Division.

Glimpses of the Overseer were even more rare than the appearance of the adult staff; she only really made public appearances on this one day. While there might be a hundred or so Graduates each year, Elite and Domes both, only the top thirty, the Top Tier, had the honor of standing so close to the Overseer, wallowing in her words of commendation.

The 'lesser' graduates, those who only had middling ranks and mediocre physical scores didn't get such a fanfare farewell. Those Graduates had already left early that morning; all the more reason for other cadets to push themselves hard enough to be in the Top Tier.

They reminded Rohit of photos he saw once, in a micro-film. Like, what was the word, those animals? Wolves? Big, sharp eyes, pointy teeth, moves like a spear through the air, and stabs whatever they are aimed at, that was the Elite.

The biggest one of them, what was his name? _Abram_ , that was it- stood like brawny sentinel amongst his peers. Like he was carved out of stone and even at ease he radiated concentrated malice. Rumor had it Abram had snapped a classmates neck during a training exercise the other week, with apparently no effort on his part at all, and indeed he looked like an Old World Colossus. The blue form-fitting Vault uniform on _him_ stretched across an acre of sculpted chest muscle, eased into great ridges and valleys of sinew and he rose above the sea of vault dwellers like a monolithic rock breaking the blue waters of the children of Vault 75.

The only person in the entire Vault that even came close to rivaling Abram was Alma – one year younger and a growing betting pool debated whether or not she could even be considered human and not a mythological creature. Rumor had it some of the Outmodes liked to scare the Under-Five kids shitless by telling them Alma roamed the halls after curfew and ate stragglers. Rohit couldn't be sure it wasn't entirely untrue; the first time he met her was when he was prepping the expository combat workshop for the am shift and caught a glimpse of her staring at him through the corridor that connected to the men's showers. He was struck dumb with numb astonishment, frozen in immobility by the predatory glee burning in her eyes. She slid out of the shadows like a knife, lifting one hand the size of a salad plate, deliberately cracking each knuckle.

As was the fashion for male and female cadet both, her hair was buzzed short to the scalp, but the scant hair that did grow was wildly curly. Alma was just _big_ ; there was no other way to describe it. Not fat, just all the spaces filled to capacity. Seeing her emerge from the shadowy corridor was like watching a drifting iceberg intent on crushing you flat.

It was only when Alma glanced down to see the junior lab assistant insignia pinned to his vault suit before she broke off with a disappointed grunt, wandering back down the corridor, no doubt searching for more rule breakers to flatten.

Like Abram, she was part of the select and terrifying Discipline Division, one of the Overseer's more alarming ideas of civil enforcement within the Vault; formed out of the Elites with the highest scores two years closest to Graduation it was a group of peers as judge, jury and executioner all in one. There wasn't a lot of crime in Vault 75.

As Rohit shuddered away the memory of Alma he watched the older lab technician lean closely to Washington's moon-wide face and jab an emphatic finger towards him, shoulders rigid with unspoken anger. Washington shook his head and stared straight ahead, both of them breaking apart as Gibson cast a reptilian gaze behind him and the technician leaned back in his chair, resuming passive interest in the Overseer's closing words.

Huh. What was that all about?

Overseer Elena raised an arm, and silence fell.

"Stand up, my children! Stand and place your hand over your heart, that's right. Together now;

 _The children of Vault 75 are strong!_

 _The children of Vault 75 are diligent!_

 _The children of Vault 75 are the Heroes of Uptopland!"_

"Very good, and who is the beloved mother and leader of all my darling obedient children?"

" _ **Mother Elena!"**_ Came the deafening reply from the all the Vault.

Clasping folded hands over the shelf-like bosom, face red and weepy, Overseer Elena smiled beatifically over the crowd.

"Then let us resume our normal schedule, my darlings. Back to work! Train those muscles, exercise that brain so that one day you may stand before me a proud Hero! Top Tier Graduates, stay here please. The Science Staff will walk you through vaccination and give you your specs for the World Above. What an exciting time for you! Chop, chop – get to it, my children!"

Having been dismissed Rohit rose from his chair, buffeted this way and that by hundreds of bodies leaving the Atrium and going back to various classes throughout the Vault. He gave a final glance at Chief Gibson and the rest of the Upstairs heading back through the upper level corridors to disappear from sight until the next Graduation Day.

It was one of the iron-clad rules that had been around so long it was in the bone, the blood. Never go past second floor corridor. Ever. That was for the Adults, the Science Division, the Medical Staff, a separate and unknown world full of scientific instrumentation, timetables and Results. Anyone who disobeyed that rule met with the full force of the Discipline Division, and the cleaner bots would have to mop up what was left of them.

Sometimes Rohit caught a few clipped phrases, here and there, when the Science Techs met in the combat simulation room to take the weekly results and leave instructions on the terminal for the am and pm junior assistants. The room was large enough to have many convenient hiding places and Rohit had overheard snippets of conversation. There was a lot of chatter about 'keeping the numbers up' and 'overhead' but nothing that really gave away life in the Upstairs. Mostly, Rohit figured it was a bunch of weedy geeks like Washington, crunching numbers and configuring new and exciting torturous routines for the cadets below.

"Watch it, Broomstick! You trying to bludgeon me with that thick skull of yours?"

Rohit scowled from his sudden splayed position on the hard metal grating floor of the corridor.

"You did that on purpose, _James_. Why don't _you_ watch where _you're_ going?"

James Slater grinned unrepentantly while the moving crowd around the two boys gave appreciative snickers and wolf whistles, probably hoping for a show. James was the am junior lab assistant for the Physical Expository Division and firmly the opposite of Rohit; popular, gregarious, and one of the best Elites in their age group. He was one of those annoying people who got the best of both worlds being smart _and_ strong and the only thing that kept Rohit from outright loathing him was the fact Rohit was the go-to person for the Upstairs computer systems analysis. No one knew how the ancient workstations ran better than Rohit, and that granted him a few perks. But there were occasions where some stupid jackass liked to push his buttons and no one did that better than James.

Pulling himself off the ground Rohit angrily brushed himself off ignoring the taunts from other cadets of 'fight!' 'fight!'.

"You forgot to log yesterday's results. Again. The next time you do it I'm reporting it to Chief Gibson." He said coldly, ignoring his stinging palms. The threat was a slightly empty one; Rohit knew that James, as one of the top Elites, was more or less untouchable and the most Gibson (or rather, one of his numerous technician lackeys) would do would be to tell James 'be more careful in the future'.

James just laughed, stretching his back unconcernedly before sauntering away.

" _Blow-back_." Rohit muttered to himself.

He stalked down the corridor, trying to ignore the taunting stage-whispers of,

"Isn't that the weirdo obsessed with all that Old World shit? I heard he sleeps with _books_ , the freak."

" – don't ever ask the PM about _automobiles_ , knife me with a rusty fork, I never thought he'd shut up."

Rohit already knew what his reputation was in the Vault, and didn't care that he had different interests than most of the other cadets. His interest in the World Before had consumed him from a young age and the Upstairs management found him unusual but useful because it was only through his tinkering with broken equipment stored in one of the repository facilities that half the tech even ran in the Vault.

However, he had to give credit to the creators of Vault 75. The main life support system; air filtration, oxygen, water cleansing, sunlight simulation, basic nutrients, heating, cooling, food preservation, all of it had run more or less on automatic regulation for over a century now without a lot of wear.

The techs Upstairs kept a close eye on the Vault systems but the terminals had constant issues and glitches.

Before he had realized Rohit had walked himself to the combat simulation room, silent without the energetic noise of students and gunfire. _Damn it_ , he had been so distracted that he got there early. Heaving a sigh he logged into the terminal and started the setup for the pm shift of testing.

* * *

"The primary basics of the semi-automatic 10mm pistol is that it has a single chamber and barrel that fires a round, then extracts and ejects the empty case, then loads a new round. Who can tell me the difference between a pistol and a revolver?"

Most of the pm testing class, being older students, were magnificently ignoring Rohit and playing a round of blackjack on the floor of the combat room. He frowned to himself but let them be; his primary basics were mostly for the kids who were newly out of the Under-Fives and could barely get their tiny hands around the grip of a gun.

They were too young to do the full test, which required hard combat; firing multiple classes of weapons, a timed shooting range and finally hand-to-hand combat with a peer but the sooner they learned the basics, the better a shot they had at rising as either an Elite or Dome.

"Anyone?"

Some of young ones had a hard time adjusting from being moved from the relatively isolated and comfortable Under-Five nursery to the large, unruly, and often violent rest of Vault 75. There was an unspoken law that _no one_ laid a finger on the Under-Fives and the children who had just come out of the Vaults nursery. Not that there weren't those cadets who wouldn't bat an eye at putting a bullet in a younger child but most of the Vault had a loose honor system that guaranteed the person who brought harm to the children wouldn't live out the night.

One young girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Nina, go on."

"A revolver is… um, a cylinder with lots of chambers."

"Good. Well done, Nina. Now I want you all to take this practice gun, _stop crying_ _Ethan_ , it's just a dummy gun, see? The chamber is welded shut. I want all of you to practice the grip I showed you and take the magazine out, and then put it back in. Nina will help you with any questions. I'm going to get the Outmo- er, the older students started on their run.

 _First up_ – Salinas, Ricardo! Go easy on the interior, would you? Punching the wall until it breaks might impress the Elite's but you're just damaging Vault property and I don't think the Overseer would approve."

"Whatever you say, Broomstick. Give me my damned gun."

As far as testing went, it was the usual; he gave the scores and some critical feedback, and the Elites threatened to cave his face in. Finally, his shift was nearing the end. Time to clear out the massive room and prep for the am shift.

This actually took quite a while and was a good chunk of his shift as the pm lab assistant; the combat simulation room was an exact replica of what was supposed to be an Uptopland city street.

Rohit was probably one of the few cadets who took enough of an interest to find out how true the model was of the World Before, and, it turns out it was pretty accurate. What a strange thought that the surface above had so much space! One replica of a city block inside the Vault seemed HUGE but apparently a single city had dozens of blocks. He kind of wished that he could have seen it before it all got blown to hell.

The main building that served as the focus for combat, stealth and capture operations was something called a… diner. An establishment that served paying patrons food. Huh. The cafeteria of the Vault was kind of similar. The cadets did have sit-down meals twice a day but the automated nutriment dispensation was mostly vitamins and the heavily modified plant proteins grown in the Vault greenhouse called Esculents. What is really was, though, was a mass shaped like a loaf of bread that had a strange rubbery grain taste. Most of the cadets called it 'Escu-don't' and ate it under protest.

Once a week the robotic controls of the cafeteria gallery would make the effort to cook real food, also grown out of the Vaults hothouses and meat simulation. On a _really_ special day, like today at Graduation, each cadet was handed a single bottle of soda that was often used as a form of currency. There were no animals in the Vault; it was something the creators had felt would have been too difficult to sustain over long periods of time and instead, relied on synthesized replacements.

There, all was straight and ready for James to take over. Rohit scrolled the testing scores, making sure each was logged properly before his eye caught something unusual.

Wedged between 'Samuel T.' and 'William R.' were the numbers '0400'. Rohit felt his heart speed up and quickly opened the file. There was a single phrase:

 _ **The darkest hour before dawn**_

That meant he only had a few minutes. Hurriedly, he deleted the file and logged off the terminal, then slid the combat room doors shut, hissing as they sealed hermetically. At this time of night, or rather, morning, the Vault was pretty much dead quiet but Rohit still didn't want to run into any of the Disciplinary Division _or_ one of the automated security bots as he was supposed to immediately return to the boys dorms after his shift, so he nearly flew to the men's lavatory.

"Hey."

James Slater leaned nonchalantly against one of the white porcelain sinks, arms crossed, looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

"This better be good, Slater."

"You still mad about me knocking your ass onto the floor? Honestly, Broomstick, it was all show. I swear I didn't take an ounce of pleasure watching you topple like a tree."

He had that stupid infectious grin that made it so damned hard to stay angry so Rohit just muttered _asshole_ under his breath and continued,

"Well? How right on the mark are we?"

James face slid from amusement to grim fury. Rohit sucked in a breath and said,

" _Shit._ Tell me. You must've found something definitive."

James unzipped the upper layer of his blue vault suit and took out a sheaf of papers, silently handing them to Rohit.

After a solid five minute block of silence, Rohit put the papers down and, white faced, dropped to his knees, not even feeling the icy cold floor tiles.

"This is… you're sure? But, then – "

"Yeah, I'm sure Rohit. We wondered why there wasn't any proof of contact with the Graduates who went Uptopland. We saw the Top Tiers this morning, but did anyone see the rest of the graduates _leave_ , and why you and me, we're tough but we would still feel it if someone put a bullet in our leg. That kid in my younger class, Choler, didn't even feel the stray bullet until I pointed out he was bleeding all over the floor.

But now, we got our proof. Vault 75 ain't no training facility, Rohit. It's a graveyard, and we're dead men walking."


	2. Chapter 2

_This is a fan made work. Fallout 4, Vault 75 and all characters, some dialogue and intellectual properties belongs to Bethesda Game Studios, published by Bethesda Softworks. Fallout: Vault 75 is intended to be a supplemental work of fiction to provide an estimation of the events that took place in one of the mysterious Vaults built by the pre-war company Vault-Tec. Artistic liberties have been made. This is also intended to be a short novella published once a month with five chapters in total. While the story was written with the intention that any person can read it and follow the events, an interest in the Fallout series and lore would be helpful in understanding Vault 75. Please be warned for graphic content, violence, mature language and some gore. Please support the author by leaving feedback, sharing, and giving credit to the aforementioned author._

 **Fallout: Vault 75  
TreCorde**

 **Two**

 _There was once a little girl named Sue and a little boy named Roy. Sue and Roy grew up in a very special place called Vault 75. They learned and trained and played there. How they trained! Sue and Roy were both growing up big and strong, when one day, Sue and Roy were asked to visit the Overseer._

" _What's wrong, Overseer?" asked Sue. "Why are you crying, Overseer?" said Roy._

" _It's just awful!" cried the Overseer, wiping a tear from her eye. "Have you children ever heard of Uptopland?"_

 _Sue and Roy blinked, and they shook their heads._

" _What's that, Overseer?" they asked._

" _Oh, it's a terrible place," began the Overseer, and she told the children about Uptopland. She told them about the people living there, and how they weren't safe or strong like children of Vault 75. Monsters attacked them and evil bandits stole their food, and it was no place for little children to grown up. No, not at all!_

" _Those poor people!" exclaimed Sue. "Why does nobody help them?" wondered Roy._

" _That's just it, children." The Overseer told them, "They need somebody big and strong to protect them."_

" _Who will help them?" Sue and Roy asked._

" _One day, children, you will." Said the Overseer. "That's why you must do your best at classes and training every day. So you can grow up big and strong, and go make Uptopland a happy and safe place for poor people who live there."_

 _Sue and Roy smiled at that, and ran off to their lessons, eager to help._

Washington Young always suspected he was special. He harbored it in the bottom of his heart from the moment he had left the great Vault nursery, nurtured his thoughts and intellect as carefully as a hot-house sapling and clung to it through the years of brutality that Vault 75 seemed to savor so much. So it hadn't come as all that much of a shock when he was pulled aside one day outside of the Advanced Algorithmics Program with the message that the Chief of the Science Division wished to speak to him, at the end of the testing day, one week before Graduation.

In a way, it was a moment that validated what he had believed deep down; that he was above the rest, _different_. Washington had replayed the request in his head so often he missed an entire grading point in the automated Biochem lab he was being tested for.

The only other person who understood him was Nina; his junior in the Vault by a few years, and the only friendship he had forged that had been against all the odds. She never made fun of him, never mentioned the… _smell_ that was totally not his fault, and always seemed interested in what he had to say.

In one of the old texts, from the World Before, Washington had read about the concept of Family. There was nothing really like it in the Vault. Sometimes two cadets developed a bond, or even a friendship, but mostly everyone else was your competition, with the exception of Mother Elena, who was the beloved Overseer and Mother of All.

Nina was like, a… well, a sister he supposed. He didn't want to shack her, nothing like _that_. He found _that_ urge barely present in his body and derided the desperate and animalistic rutting that sometimes took place late nights in the dorm, or odd corner of the Vault.

Washington was more interested in seeing Nina develop her mental skills, urged on by his superior intellect. Of course, she was built more for physical activities; Nina was already heading for the top of the Elites in her age group but there was a sense of accomplishment and pride as she slowly came along with her mental capacity as well. That was all thanks to Washington.

The excitement was so great the hour before the Meeting he could barely concentrate during combat simulation, but could hardly bring himself to care even when he got the lowest score out of the pm testing group. Ignoring the scathing remarks from the pm junior assistant, Rohit, Washington walked to the back of the line and leaned against the wall of the combat workshop wall, not even feeling the rough stone the underground room had been built around dig into his vault uniform.

"Gibson's got his eye on you, that's gotta be it."

Washington smirked and gave a side glance to the small dark haired girl who had snuck up right next to him.

"Top marks. I didn't even hear you."

Nina returned the sly smile and continued,

"I mean, the staff has to come from _somewhere,_ where else than the Graduates from the Vault?"

"Ha. Logical fallacy. Who is to say that previous Graduates haven't simply found staff members from Uptopland?"

Nina made a face.

"Ohhh, I am going to miss those dry observation skills when you're gone, Washington."

"Well, not gone entirely. If Gibson decides I'm worthy of the research staff, and, let's be honest, I'm the smartest in the Graduate group, I'll still be around even if you don't see me."

Nina looped her arm through his and gave him a bright smile.

"Guardian Angel Young, creeper genius, watcher of the boys shower room- _ouch_ , I was just joking!"

That had been earlier. This was now.

Washington had been instructed to come to the second floor corridor staircase and wait for a lab technician to escort him to Chief Gibson's personal office. He arrived early, out of a fit of nerves, and had a few moments to reflect.

Graduation had always been something distant and unreachable to him, something that was always _later_ and _next year_ , something that happened to the other cadets and something Washington had secretly been dreading, before his summoning.

What good could he do on the surface? If all reports were correct, conditions were hellish; a scramble for survival that meant poor shelter, little food, and constant danger. Deep in his own thoughts, Washington wondered _why_ the people in Uptopland didn't just, well, either die or get tough? If children inside a Vault could become proficient enough with a gun or a knife, why couldn't Uptoplanders? Vault 75 had been supplying their skills to the World Above for ages now, surely they didn't need e _very_ Graduate?

But rules were rules; at the age of 18 every single Vault resident, staff notwithstanding, was expected to vacate their home and begin a new life in the World Above, in an effort to rebuild what was destroyed.

But not Washington. A small smug flame burned deep within his chest, blossoming outward until he was grinning as he had made his way past the dormitories and crowds of cadets, all of whom gave him a wide berth. They didn't matter, now, none of them. All the taunts and brutality towards his person was a part of his past, a part of _before_ Vault 75 recognized how special he was.

He didn't have to wait long. As always, the Vault scientific staff was punctual and exact and everything Washington hoped to become. The researcher that stood before him wore the white coat of the Vault Staff and carried a clip board with various graphs and charts. It was almost as though he had wandered down the second floor corridor by mistake, so preoccupied by the clipboard the research assistant waited a full minute before sparing Washington a glance and said,

"Washington Young? This way, please."

Heart pounding he followed the assistant up the wide staircase, brimming with the excitement that he was about to witness the forbidden. How many cadets had e _ver_ beheld what he was about to see? Wouldn't Nina be jealous!

What would the Upstairs be like? Would it be like his classmates had always conjectured – giant rooms filled with tubes and a soda machine utopia with dozens of white-clad scientists busying themselves with experiments and creating?

Washington knew on an indistinct level that the work Vault 75 was doing had to do with the physical human body, obviously, since all the cadets knew from birth was testing for both physical and mental capabilities and the Upstairs dictated where and when testing happened for the Vault.

Maybe they just recorded information, maybe they created some kind of supplement to help the cadets do better before they were sent to the World Above, who knew?

 _But he was about to find out_.

So far it wasn't so different from the rest of the Vault; high arched ceilings, metal ventilation conducts, orderly and sterile paneling along echoing corridors that was lined with a multitude of piping that was the artery lifeline of Vault 75.

He turned a corner and the assistant held up a hand.

"Wait. Come here and stand still."

Washington did as he was told, recognizing the security scan that kept the giant doors of the science research corridor shut. This must be the entrance to the Upstairs! Lined along the upper walls were a half-dome shaped device that he recognized as the offensive turret system. A little shiver went up his spine, realizing that anyone not authorized to be in the area would trigger the defenses and would meet a bloody end.

A bright red light momentarily blinded Washington but he stood stock still until he heard an automated voice say,

"Incumbent, Young, Washington. Accepted. Please proceed."

The giant bay doors opened.

The Upstairs unfolded before Washington like a mechanical dream, filled with noise, and walls lined with data processors, lights, whirring components, dozens of moving bodies in the white lab coats. There were just too many things to take into account while he was hurrying behind the lab technician like a pull toy on a string.

"Chief Gibson's office is this way. Don't fall behind."

Eager for a best impression Washington did as he was told, even though he longed to stop and touch and ask about everything he was seeing. Through another corridor they stepped into a vast room unlike he had ever seen.

There was an open floor space that was lifted into the air by four different great stair cases and four gaping hallway openings that went into different directions. Space was very efficiently used in this area; beneath the staircases were tiny cubicles and then some more space for storage and vast machinery that Washington couldn't _wait_ to find out about. On the surface of the floor space was more terminals and bustling lab assistants. But the most interesting part was the floor itself.

Here, Washington disobeyed orders and stopped fully and just stared beyond his feet. He was on the other side of what was clearly a two way mirror. This was the mess hall! Mesmerized he watched from above the automated mechanical hands of the kitchen staff whir, and chop and prepare what was going to be the evening meal. A few more steps and he was in another part of the Vault.

This was..

"The Observation Deck. As you can see, the morning class is being put through their paces. We've been having excellent ratings; hardly a cardiac malfunction this term. If you are quite through gawking, incumbent, keep moving. Chief Gibson isn't the most patient man."

Reluctantly, Washington tore himself away, all too familiar with the Physical Exertion Room. Running the treadmills was one of the earliest training exercises the cadets were put through and he remembered all too well the day he nearly died. 'Cardiac malfunction' said the assistant, as though a complete shutdown of all major organs was a minor annoyance. Washington had been one of those children pushed beyond the body's breaking point; he remembered running the Treads; muscle, lungs and brain screaming in agony before finally blackness enveloped him and he woke up in Recovery. It was the day he realized that his body would never keep up with the Vaults strict physical demands.

"Chief Gibson, incumbent Washington to see you, sir."

Washington was left alone in the vast office of the Chief of the Scientific Division. This was clearly the main office. Unlike the other, smaller cubicles that the science staff had been busy slavering away in, Chief Gibson's office was easily the size of one of the Vaults dormitory halls.

Everything was orderly. The multitude of storage cabinets fairly gleamed under phosphorus glow of the ceiling lighting, almost artistic in the low lighting. One could only imagine how many years, or decades, of information was locked away.

Here, the floor was tiled with a cool blue stucco pattern that reflected Washington's face back at him. Yet the grandest part about the Chief Scientists office was the fact that nearly all of it was glass. Three huge windows opened up the space and beyond the windows – a perfect view of the combat simulation room. Washington was shocked; nearly every aspect of the cadet's lives was monitored. He wondered if there was observation glass above the showers and toilet facility and decided right then he was better off not asking.

In the middle of the office, framed by the largest observation window, was the bulky and imposing form of the Chief Scientist of Vault 75, hands clasped behind his back, watching the figures of the pm testing group fire into a practice dummy.

Washington cleared his throat.

"Sir-"

"You will address me as Chief Gibson. Tell me, incumbent Washington, have you ever wanted something greater?"

"Um. Greater?"

"Look at those children. Every day they toil, they work, they eat, they sleep, and then they rise to do it all over again. They never question anything, they never look beyond the next meal. They have no _imagination._ "

Chief Gibson turned slowly, as if on greased wheels and pegged Washington with an unblinking stare.

"What if I were to tell you there was a purpose behind Vault 75 and that purpose would bring humanity to a new evolutionary stage, one that would ensure that we will never again fall to anything or _anyone_?"

"I would be very excited to hear about it, Chief Gibson."

Calling the emotion expressed on Chief Gibson's face a smile would have been too generous. Really, it was more like a flattening of the lips. He gestured at the over-sized desk.

"Sit down."

Washington sat.

"Clearly you know I've called you here because your academic scores are excellent, but were we to start you off as a research assistant I would need certain... assurances that you would be the best fit for the Science Staff."

Washington leaned forward, pulled as though on a string.

"Of course, Chief Gibson. I've done all the AP classes and placed highest in-"

Gibson waved a negligent hand.

"Yes, yes. What I want most of all from you is to understand the monumental task you are about to take upon your shoulders. The work we do here isn't for everyone, only the best and brightest can study under me."

"I assure you, sir-"

"Everything done here is for the advancement of man, the betterment for humanity if you will, at any cost. Once you sign on, there won't be any going back. You must obey me as you would the Mother Overseer, you must give your upmost to detail and diligence and one day, Washington Young, you may even step into my shoes. Not that I plan on stepping down for many years, ha ha."

The laugh came out like dry desert breeze squeezed out of a mummy.

"Does that mean I won't be going to surface after Graduation, Chief Gibson?"

Gibson dragged a thick forefinger across his expansive chin, contemplating.

"Of course not. That would be a waste of your talents. You would do more good staying here helping with research than you would in the World Above. Can I count on you, Washington?"

" _Yes_ , Chief Gibson, I would do anything to be part of the Science Research Division!"

Chief Gibson leaned back in the leather chair, a strange and satisfied look warming his flat dark eyes.

"Good. That's good to hear, Washington."

The first few days were spent acclimating to the Upstairs, which was a challenge. While being raised in Vault 75 meant nearly every hour of the day was filled with some kind of activity there was at least definitive off hours where five hours sleep could be had, though it was rumored some of the Discipline Squad never slept at all.

The Science Research Staff, on the other hand, seemed to have no set schedule and was more of a free-for-all. Of course, everyone answered to Chief Gibson, he was the undisputed Head of Science, the first and last voice of every decision made. When Chief Gibson called, you dropped everything you were doing to answer.

His main contact had been the research assistant that had met him the first day on the steps leading to the Upstairs. Supervisor Bissell was unremarkable in every way; medium sized, spindly, fidgety, balding and bespectacled, he wasn't exactly what Washington expected as his mentor and guide for his transition into the Research Staff but he seemed to know what he was doing.

The first bit of trouble came when Washington had voiced, during the morning assembly, the desire to nip back downstairs to grab his personal belongings and say goodbye to his only friend in the Vault.

You would have thought he suggested a revolution by the way the staff reacted. Several of the assistants went red in the face, shouting about integrity and confidentiality, while Bissell vibrated with indignity sputtering that he needed Washington to record results and couldn't possibility spare him for a moment.

In the end Gibson had merely cleared his throat and said,

"That will be quite impossible, I'm afraid. Absolute scientific integrity must be upheld, _which means_ , Washington, that we must have _no_ contact with the subjects Downstairs. You do not belong with them, you are not a cadet, you are Research Team Assistant Washington, is that understood? Or shall I ask another-"

" _No_! I mean – no, Chief Gibson, please forget I said anything."

And that seemed to be the end of that. Although Washington couldn't prove anything, he was fairly certain that asking about Downstairs had earned him some of the… lesser tasks.

The evening before Graduation, almost a week as part of the Upstairs, Washington was asked to assist Doctor Kendrick in Disposal. He had always known, on a vague level, that death was a part of Vault life. Most of the time it was (customarily) accidental; work misfortunes, stray gun fire, rumors of the Discipline Squad casualties, but every once in a while an outbreak would occur, unescapable in such a small space, and a case of Sleepers or Red Scourge would cut a swath in the population.

Fortunately, most of the Vault medical equipment was not only functional, but nearly God-like in the ability to detect, isolate and 'solve' medical issues. The Sleeper virus was the one that gave the Medical Division a lot of trouble; symptoms didn't show until it was too advanced to do anything but 'sleep' until all the vital functions in the body just stopped.

Washington made sure that he double gloved his hands and covered every possible part of himself before entering the Vault's morgue and body disposal area.

The Disposal area was in the deepest part of Vault 75; a place where collective waste, trash and, of course, human remains were sent. It was a network of stainless steel stacked 'storage' units, cleansing unites, sterile tiled floors and finally the incinerator room itself.

 _If Nina could only see me now._ He thought wryly.

He knew a true scientist remained objective, stoic and removed but he couldn't help the small shiver of abhorrence that ran up his spine as one wrapped body after another was fed into the furnace.

Did he know them, had he spoken to them mere days ago before their demise? Was this another outbreak? There were so many bodies…

After feeding the white hot flames a smaller body, surely a female, Washington broke out in a cold sweat, morbidly wondering what if that had been Nina's corpse he just fed to the flames.

Washington knew better to question anything aloud; Doctor Kendrick had verbally and viscerally laid into him when he voiced his dismay at handling what could have been a disease ridden corpse, which had added up to more or less, "Silence, miscreant worm, lest I feed _your_ degenerate body to the fire next."

After a few fitful hours of sleep, Washington was summoned, stumbling and bleary eyed, by Bissell to Lab 3 and was unceremoniously handed a stack of papers with the simple instruction to record the results stated at the back of each sheaf of papers.

It was with a jolt of shock that Washington realized that today was Graduation. That would explain the unusually quiet atmosphere within the Upstairs; a lot of the older staff, including Gibson, would be overlooking the ceremony. Bissell had given him the grunt work while he went off to enjoy the festivities, Washington thought sourly.

Bissell had been in a particularly bad mood that morning. Before the research team had met with Gibson for the a.m. debriefing he had pulled Washington aside and hissed into his ear,

" _Did you take the notes off my clipboard!?_ "

Washington could only gape at him in disbelief.

"No, Doctor Bissell. I didn't touch your clipboard."

If anything this made Bissell even more anxious as he vibrated and his eyes darted around the meeting room, apparently making certain that no one had heard them.

"You are not to tell _anyone_ what I just said, do you hear me? _Anyone!_ If I so much as get a _snippet_ of –"

"I won't say anything! _I promise_. Er- what did you lose?"

Bissell drew himself up, grasping the ever present clipboard (minus the papers) to his thin chest.

"Never you mind, Washington. Just you- just keep an eye out for them, _and don't read them, do you understand_!? If you find out where they went _tell me immediately_."

"Chief Gibson said I wasn't supposed to show myself to the Downstairs-"

" _I don't care_! Immediately, Washington, _immediately_."

Why Bissell hadn't stayed behind and looked for the papers if they had been so important was beyond Washington. Instead, he went off to Graduation with Gibson and Washington was here. Maybe he hadn't wanted to raise suspicion, maybe they weren't _that_ important, maybe he just wanted to test Washington.

Well, it couldn't be helped. You had to start somewhere and Gibson had _personally_ picked him to join the research team. Slightly mollified, Washington began laboriously typing percentages and disjointed words into the terminal.

About an hour into his labor, and after a stiff cup of coffee, Washington was rubbing his head in an effort to abate the gathering headache that was pounding behind his eyes. It might have been easier to do the recording if he had a clearer idea of what it was he was reading, but he daren't disobey the direct order from Gibson to avoid snooping through the reports. He was only to record numbers, to begin with, and as he gained 'trust' as Gibson put it, Washington would be allowed to handle more sensitive materials.

He still couldn't help his brain from speculating and some of the words associated like, 'Adenine' and 'Cytosine' _clearly_ pointed towards experimentation with the human genome and that got Washington _very_ interested.

Sighing deeply and stretching his back, his elbow accidently jostled the rickety metal stool he had been using as a table for the giant stack of research.

After a heart stopping moment of swaying back and forth the stool decided to remain standing, possibly because the weight of the stack of papers made it too heavy to topple easily, and Washington let out a breath of relief. It was then he realized that in the back of his head he had been hearing a strange sound and cocked his head to the side.

A weird rattling noise was coming from somewhere within the room. Giving voice to the tickle in the back of his mind (and possibly, boredom) Washington decided if he didn't find out what the hell was making that noise he wouldn't be able to go back to work.

A few moments of searching located the rattling that was coming from inside one of the many vents inside of Lab 3; this one was located just above one of Bissell's work tables, scattered with coffee cups, bits of apparatus and crumpled papers.

 _Oh no, surely not –_

He angled one of the desk lamps towards the gaping black hole of the wall air vent, and sure enough there were a handful of papers _just_ on the edge of one of the sharp U-bend turns that vented the air to who-knows where. The metal slats of the grate covering the mouth of the vent were spaced small enough to keep someone from sticking any body parts within but large enough for a light object to pass through. _Well, shit._

Washington thought hard about his options and knew there was nothing for it, then grabbed a broom from the utility closet, hoping no one was watching him. He had a small bit of luck there – everyone was either sleeping while Gibson was gone, or at Graduation.

Carefully, he fed the broom handle into the duct, with the intention of scraping the papers along the metal tube and back out for him to hand back to Bissell.

With a sucking rattle the last of the research papers hurtled down the black void, leaving Washington open mouthed and frozen.

 _Uh oh._

Frozen in place, not quite believing what he had just seen, Washington fervently hoped that those papers weren't important, fully knowing they probably were. He spent another ten minutes battling with himself before he went to find Bissell.

It had only been a week since his induction into the science research team, but it felt like a lifetime. Slowly stepping down the stairs of the second corridor, and easing himself onto the balcony overlook Washington had to fight every impulse to just run back to Lab 3 and pretend nothing had happened. Yes, there was nearly the entirety of Vault 75, lining the Atrium below like a moving blanket.

Fortunately, everyone's attention was on Overseer Elena, graciously giving praise to the Top Tier Elites who would be leaving the Vault later that day. Washington almost envied them; it seemed easier now to leave the Vault rather than face Gibson's ire at breaking one of the rules he given him, but Bissell's quivering face bothered him, and he _did_ to tell him to find him no matter what. Surely Chief Gibson would understand that.

" _Doctor Bissell!"_

Washington hissed quietly, sitting in the empty metal fold out chair next to him

Bissell's eyes bulged at the sight of Washington and he swooped towards him, eyeballs uncomfortably close to his.

" _Useless boy, didn't I tell you not to bother me unless you found those damned papers!?"_

" _Yes, Doctor Bissell, I know, look I heard this noise-"_

" _ **Noise**_ _!? Who gives a good Goddamn about noise, if you are so abysmally inadequate you can't even find a few lost sheets of paper, then so help me-"_

"Is there a problem?"

Chief Gibson's voice cut through Bissell's increasingly falsetto hysteria like a slow poisonous drip. One look into those flat dark eyes, Washington knew he was going to have some explaining to do and prayed to whatever was listening that he would still have a post when Graduation was done.

He glanced at Bissell, waiting for his supervisor to set the record straight, to tell Gibson that he had asked Washington to come see him personally about a private matter –

"Oh, no, Chief Gibson! Washington, that silly boy, I told him, sir, I told him that ought not to come today, but you heard him at the meeting, sir. He wanted so desperately to see his little classmates off one last time, well, I suppose he just couldn't help himself, could you, Washington?"

Chief Gibson was silent for an uncomfortable long time, staring between the two researchers before saying,

"Come see me after Graduation, Washington."

Then turned around to continue his conversation with Doctor Kendrick, leaving Washington feeling like he had just been kicked in the stomach by one of the Discipline Squad. Dully, he looked at Bissell, who was still quivering in anger and indignation.

" _Well!? Did you find my papers!?"_

Washington stared at Bissell and his watery protruding eyes and how he hadn't hesitated a _second_ before throwing Washington at Gibson like a meaty shield. Washington could only return the favor and not hesitate a second before replying.

"No."


End file.
